


Rules of Engagement

by Morgane (smilla840)



Category: Kings
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M, Set after 1x03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 04:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilla840/pseuds/Morgane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose is displeased. She enlists a clueless David’s help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules of Engagement

**Author's Note:**

> This is set/was written directly after 1x03 and diverges a little from canon from 1x04 onwards.

Rose checks her watch pointedly for the third time, ignoring the look her husband and daughter are sharing, and gestures for the cook to proceed.

“We can not wait for Jack a minute longer,” she says brightly to no one in particular. “The roast will overcook.”

And Jack still isn’t here.

Both her children know better than to miss Sunday lunches when they’re in Siloh. Rose laid down the law years ago: no matter what happens during the week, they put it aside long enough to eat a family meal on Sundays. And while it’s not uncommon for Jack to sleep the morning away he’s never been late before. In fact she would have thought he’d be here bright and early, flushed with success and looking for a word of praise.

No, something is wrong.

She discreetly signals for Thomasina to join her and demands that her son be found. Then she smiles pleasantly and starts talking about the weather.

 

Three hours later she has made close to no progress – which is unacceptable. Jack isn’t in any of his usual haunts and his security detail barred Thomasina access to his flat. Which answers the where, at least, but not the why, and to understand what’s going on in her son’s head that’s precisely what she needs to know.

How wonderfully frustrating, she reflects with a wry smile, that Jack should inspire such loyalty among those who care enough to get to know him. Were it not so Thomasina would have dragged him home by now, a subtle bribe taking care of the closed door. But instead there she is, the sun long past its zenith, _worrying_.

Well.

Only one option left, she thinks with mild distaste.

“Fetch Shepherd,” she says and Thomasina goes.

 

It takes them twenty-six minutes to bring Shepherd to her. She looks him over thoughtfully: finally he stands before her, the man who saved her son and enthralled her daughter. He doesn’t look like much, she thinks. Oh, he is handsome enough but then Michelle’s beaux always are. And there is a certain innocence about him, if you like that sort of thing.

Rose doesn’t.

Her eyes linger on the tie – askew – and the shirt – wrinkled – but she supposes she can forgive him – it _is_ Sunday after all. If he is to remain at court, however, he will need to be taught the proper etiquette. It simply wouldn’t do for him to precipitate another incident by unwittingly causing insult to some visiting dignitary – no, that would hinder what she has in mind for him.

At least his posture is good, she reflects, the military no doubt, and although he looks uncomfortable under her gaze he doesn’t fidget.

Good.

“Did you enjoy your night out with my son?” she asks and he looks surprised. No doubt he thought – hoped? – their meeting would be about her other wayward child.

He blunders his way through his answer, blushing a little – the boy really has no control of his facial expressions – and Rose, her face a mask of polite interest, barely strangles the urge to hurry him along. A simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ is often the best policy – he will have to learn that too.

When Shepherd finally stops talking – the general feeling being that yes, he had a good time – she nods benignly in his general direction and chooses her next words carefully.

“Did anything… peculiar… happen?”

She watches Shepherd closely, looking for a hint of understanding or a sign of deceit. There are none that she can find but the boy seems to be in some sort of mental struggle over how (if?) he should answer. She taps a perfectly manicured finger on her forearm, the only outward sign of impatience she will allow and does _not_ grit her teeth.

“Jack – I mean, the Prince – got into a fight,” he says and Rose mentally rolls her eyes. Jack, Jack, Jack. That is _not_ attending to your star.

But boys will be boys and it certainly is not the first time Jack’s thrown a few punches. Shepherd, however, has more to say on the subject.

“He seemed… unwell.” 

Her attention perks up although her face only shows mild interest.

“Like he wanted to get hurt.”

She rises abruptly, startling Shepherd into silence, and turns away from him, facing the window as fury storms through her.

Jack is many things but self-destructive isn’t one of them. He is too proud for that.

No, she knows what this is about – it can only be one thing. And she will not allow it.

She will not allow Silas to destroy her son.

She knows – oh, she knows – about the little talk he had with Jack on the day of the truce. But she never thought Jack would take it to heart, or she would have intervened long ago. That was a tactical mistake, she realizes, one she should not have made: Jack can be so sensitive to the strangest things, a trait she tried to eradicate but to no avail.

Silas gets to have his own secret garden, she thinks bitterly. He _will_ let Jack have his. It is, after all, far better for the monarchy if its king is happy. And Jack’s indiscretions won’t murk the succession line, at least.

Something has to be done.

Decision made, she writes down a name and an address on a piece of paper and hands it to Shepherd who is still standing there, as silent as a stone.

“Go fetch this man,” she tells him, “and bring him to Jack. A car is waiting for you.”

Shepherd looks completely out of his depths – good, the less he understands the better – but he doesn’t ask questions and makes a strange little bow before turning away.

How… charming.

“And Captain?” she calls out before he is out of the door. “Do keep this to yourself.”

She watches him disappear and hopes it isn’t too late. 

If it is, someone will pay.

And maybe next time, her dear husband would do well to remember that she knows all his dirty little secrets before he tries to shape their son’s life again. She may turn a blind eye on a lot of things but not on this. Never on this.

Jack is hers to groom for power and she won’t allow Silas or anyone else to interfere.

\---

David has no clue what’s going on.

First he gets dragged out of his apartment by Thomasina to go see the Queen. He spends the ride worrying about Michelle – did he do something wrong? Is that why she isn’t talking to him anymore? _Why_ does the Queen want to see him? – and thinking he should have gotten some sleep this morning. He probably looks like crap and he is going to see the _Queen_. The sheer awe he feels at that never gets old. He thinks maybe it never will.

Then he is standing in front of her, feeling like it’s inspection day at boot camp, and she asks about Jack. Which is, well, not what he expected and the entire night flashes through his mind, leaving him a little flustered. He answers as best as he can, but when she wants to know if something happened, he pauses.

What should he say? Should he even say anything? He doesn’t know Jack, can’t judge whether he was behaving out of character the night before – surely there must be someone better equipped to answer her? Jack’s friends, maybe? 

Truth be told, he found everything about Jack peculiar. A strange mix of charming and bitter, he said things that made David flounder, wondering why he was suddenly privy to the prince’s most private thoughts.

All his life David thought the royal family was bigger than life, beautiful and perfect, and when he met Michelle it solidified that impression. Jack’s different though – oh, he is beautiful, and David flushes a little when he remembers watching him kiss that girl, a completely inappropriate heat curling in his stomach. But there is an edge to Jack, something hard and brittle underneath the flashy appearance that makes him dangerous and unpredictable. And so very irresistible it almost hurts to look at him sometimes.

But there was that fight. David almost winces, thinking about the look on Jack’s face when he yelled at a stranger to hurt him, and he hesitantly tells the Queen about that. It’s nothing two dozens persons haven’t witnessed but David can’t help feeling like he’s betraying Jack’s trust somehow.

The Queen stands abruptly and David shuts his mouth with an audible click when he sees murder in her eyes. He is actually relieved when she turns away and he looks around for a hint as to what the proper behaviour is in situations like this. Should he leave? But Thomasina is no help, standing impassive by the door, and so he waits.

Eventually the Queen hands him a piece of paper and gives him his orders. David takes it and makes a hasty retreat, so relieved to escape the stifling atmosphere of the palace that he doesn’t even think to look for Michelle in empty corridors.

 

In the dim light of the car David sinks into the comfortable seat and stares at the piece of paper in his hand while the driver weaves his way seamlessly through traffic.

It’s got a name and an address on it, and no clue as to why this man will be able to help Jack. Because Jack has to be in trouble, David’s deduced that much, or the Queen wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble. Why she asked _David_ to handle it, however, remains a mystery and David gives up on trying to decipher it – figuring out why the royals do what they do is something no mortal can aspire to, he’s discovered.

The car stops and David steps out, forgetting to wait for the driver to open the door for him. They’re in an expensive but understated part of town and David can’t help but feel slightly apprehensive as he heads inside.

He knocks on a door on the second floor and waits for an answer with batted breath – _what if he isn’t home? What should he do then? Will the Queen be terribly displeased?_ – but the door eventually opens, shaking him out of his gloomy thoughts.

The man is young and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt – and not at all what David was expecting. He looks like shit and David wonders how this man is supposed to make Jack all better. He thought maybe he would be a doctor, old and distinguished and discreet, or a lawyer – really, what sort of trouble can Jack get himself into?

This isn’t a drug thing, right? Oh God, he really hopes it isn’t a drug thing. 

“Hum… hi! Are you Joseph?” David asks a little nervously and when the man nods he goes on, “I’m David Shepherd –” 

“I know who you are,” Joseph interrupts him, crossing his arms defensively on his chest. “What do you want?”

David frowns, a little taken aback. Are all the people in Siloh so rude?

“The Queen asked me to come and get you. To go see the Prince?”

Joseph’s arms fall back to his side as he takes a step forward, the antipathy vanishing instantly from his face and replaced by worry.

“What’s wrong? Is he alright?” he asks, voice slightly muffled as he bends over to put on his shoes.

“I don’t know,” David says but that’s obviously not good enough.

“But you were with him last night – did anything happen?”

David’s eyebrows go up at the accusation in Joseph’s voice – how does he even know that?

“He got into a fight,” he says and Joseph’s eyes narrow as he gestures towards the door.

“Let’s go,” he says and David goes.

 

The drive to Jack’s flat is full of uncomfortable silence and the drum of Joseph’s fingers against the armrest.

When they get there the door is guarded by two bodyguards. David recognizes them from last night but they don’t look very impressed with him when he asks to see Jack. But then their eyes switch to Joseph and they move aside, letting them in.

They step inside, the door closing behind them with a barely audible click and David moves towards the stairs. He should leave, really – he did what the Queen asked him to, he brought Joseph here – but he can’t help being a little worried, like it’s his fault somehow. He saved his life, after all, and that means he is responsible for him from now on. And Jack did take quite a beating last night and David did nothing…

The sight that awaits him at the top of the stairs makes him stop in his tracks.

Jack is sitting on the floor, back against the wall and knees drawn up to his chest. He stares into the vague with red eyes, dried tear and bruises on his face, and he looks so lonely and miserable David feels a tug deep in his chest to rush forward and wrap him into a bear hug, like his mom used to do for him and his brothers when they were sick or sad. But he’s pretty sure Jack would welcome him with a punch and so he stays put, barely daring to breathe.

He must have made a sound though, his footsteps too heavy on that last stair maybe, because Jack’s head snaps in his direction, incomprehension and betrayal the first emotions to appear on his face as he ineffectively tries to wipe off salt tracks quickly turning into contempt and hatred.

“What the fuck are _you_ doing here?” Jack sneers, hurling out so much anger David almost takes a step back – maybe he’s making things worse by being here?

But to retreat would be to admit defeat and he’s seen past Jack’s defences now – he’s seen the despair and the self-loathing and he knows that most of that anger isn’t meant for him.

“The Queen –” David starts but a sharp intake of breath cuts him off as Joseph joins them.

Jack’s carefully plastered-on expression crumbles when he sees the other man, hope and disbelief and shame warring on his face, and from this moment on it’s like David isn’t even in the room anymore.

Jack stares at Joseph like a prince eyes the throne, full of hunger and _want_ , yet the look on his face is both pleading and fearful when he holds out an unsteady hand towards him, clearly expecting to be turned down.

Jack is no prince here, he is only a man. 

Joseph’s.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Jack whispers, the sound of his voice raw and painful from booze or sex or tears, and David suddenly wants to flee. This was never meant for his eyes, the scene too private, too _intimate_ , and Jack’s made it pretty clear he doesn’t want him here, but David doesn’t dare to move, afraid of bringing attention to himself and making Jack’s face close up in anger again.

And maybe he should be more shocked to find out that Jack – crown prince, skirt-chasing Jack – is in love with a man but he isn’t. Nothing in Siloh is what it seems and Jack clearly is no exception to the rule. No, the shock comes from the unexpected – and unwelcome – jealousy that spikes through him at the idea itself, leaving him confused and breathless.

Then Joseph is moving, jarring David out of his thoughts although he doesn’t even spare a glance in his direction. He grasps the outstretched hand and uses it to haul Jack up and into his arms and Jack holds on desperately, like Joseph is the only thing keeping the battered pieces of his soul together. He buries his face in Joseph’s shoulder in an attempt to shut out the rest of the world, and tries to climb into the other man’s skin.

“He knows, my father knows,” David hears him say, the words muffled and barely audible, and oh. That’s bad. Why is that bad?

Joseph makes no answer that David can hear, tightening his embrace instead and giving Jack all the time he needs to stop shaking. Then he tugs his head up gently and kisses the fresh tear tracks on Jack’s cheeks before capturing his lips. The kiss is both reassurance and claim, love and pledge, and Jack moans into it, the needy sound making heat explode in David’s chest and groin, a lot like it did just a few hours ago when he watched Jack kiss that girl except ten times stronger.

David stumbles back around a corner, pressing his burning forehead against the wall in an effort to gather his thoughts. He doesn’t understand what’s happening to him, this urge, this _want_ for Jack that seemed so inappropriate last night and still is today, for completely different reasons. David’s been with men before – he really is no saint – but Jack? Perfect, broken Jack? What about Michelle?

Head full of questions he sits on the floor and tries to make some sense of it all. A sane person would leave, no doubt, but then David’s starting to question his sanity. He hears the sound of ruffling sheets a few feet away and then silence, and still he waits, five, ten minutes, before cautiously peering back into the room.

They’re both fast asleep, catching up on much deserved sleep – and David should too instead of indulging his newly found fascination – arms and legs intertwined in a way that can’t possibly be comfortable but the peaceful look on both their faces says they don’t care.

They’re beautiful.

His own helpless attraction hits him again and David is too tired to think about it now.

The chair in the corner looks awfully comfortable and he sits down, feeling it hug his body comfortingly. I’ll just rest my eyes a minute before I go home, he tells himself.

And promptly falls asleep.

 

He wakes up with a crick in his neck and a generally achy body and doesn’t think to muffle his initial groan of outrage. Then he remembers where he is and he opens his eyes, blinking at the late afternoon sun to find Joseph looking back at him over the crown of Jack’s head.

David opens his mouth to stammer an apology but Joseph beats him to the punch.

“Thank you,” he says softly and David stares at him, forgetting to close his mouth.

“What for?”

“Saving his life. Bringing him back. Bringing me here today.” He shrugs with one shoulder, carefully not to disturb Jack who is using the other as a pillow. “Take your pick. Seems I have a lot to thank you for.”

“There is no need –”

“Yes there _is_ ,” Joseph interrupts him, eyes suddenly fierce and blazing. “Jack deserves it, he deserves people being grateful that he is alive –”

Jack makes a soft noise and nuzzles against his throat, distracting both David and Joseph quite effectively. He is still half-asleep, seeking Joseph’s mouth blindly for a kiss and David feels his cheeks burning as he tries to look at anything but the bed.

“Jack…” Joseph protests, a smile in his voice. “We’ve got company.”

Jack freezes, his whole demeanour changing drastically from playful to battle-ready, and it looks like Joseph’s hand on his shoulder is the only thing keeping him from bolting. He opens his eyes, complex emotions playing on his face when he sees David. Some of the old anger returns, along with a multitude of others David can’t decipher.

“What is he still doing here?” Jack says, glaring, and David feels inordinarily hurt.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he mumbles, staring at the ground.

“Oh, God. You really are a boyscout,” Jack groans, flopping back on the bed. He glances at Joseph and a fond smile appears, chasing some of the anger away. “No wonder Michelle likes you.”

David doesn’t know how to answer that. He’s never met anyone who could make a compliment sound so much like an insult before Jack and it makes him cautious. The fact that there is no trace of the Jack he met a couple of hours ago, open and vulnerable, only adds to his dismay. It’s like it never even happened!

“Now if you don’t mind, my boyfriend and I are going to take a shower.” 

Jack stands, a challenge in his eyes as he tugs Joseph up with him, and David finally catches a glimpse of that openness again when he looks down at the other man.

He wishes… he wishes Jack would look at him like that.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Jack orders, annihilating David’s hopes for a quick escape. “We’ve got to talk.”

Damn.

 

David wanders around the apartment as he waits for the other two, wondering what Jack wants to talk about. Wondering why Jack doesn’t like him. He thought… well, after last night he thought maybe he had found a friend in Siloh.

A moan not quite muffled by the sound of running water makes him jump and he blushes. It is soon followed by another – and another – and David certainly does _not_ imagine what’s going on up there or how they (Jack) might look like naked, with their (his) head thrown back and –

He groans, covering his ears with both hands, and tries not to think at all.

By the time Jack and Joseph make their way down the stairs, bare feet and hair still wet, looking flushed from more than just the shower, David’s got himself back under control – barely. He is so tightly wound up he almost jumps at attention but a warning glare stops him short and instead he shuffles awkwardly before taking a seat.

“So,” Jack drawls, sprawling on the couch but still leaving enough room for Joseph to sit next to him. They look so comfortable around each other, so at ease, that David can’t help staring, a little (a lot) envious. “What do you want?”

Joseph elbows him not so discreetly. 

“Be nice,” he scolds but Jack’s eyes don’t leave David’s, assessing and stubborn.

“I don’t want anything,” David answers (almost) truthfully and judging by the dubious look on Jack’s face he doesn’t quite believe him.

“You don’t, uh?” Jack surveys him a little while longer before shaking his head with a wry smile. “What are we going to do with you?”

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” David says earnestly, leaning forward because it’s important that Jack believes him.

“Even if I told you I leaked the pictures of you and Claudia to the press?”

“What pictures?” What pictures?

Jack snorts. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

“He did bring me here,” Joseph points out and his eyes meet Jack’s, going all soft and tender and David has to look away.

“Yeah, about that. How did you even _know_?” Jack asks after clearing his throat.

“Your mother asked me to,” David says and watches Jack’s face lose all colours.

“My _mother_?”

“Yes,” David explains, wondering what’s so terrible about that and anxious to make Jack look mellow and happy again. “She was worried about you, I think.”

“Why?” Jack sounds completely bewildered and David almost reaches out for him before he forcefully stops himself.

Joseph is there though, pulling Jack close and grasping his neck, forcing him to look at him.

“If I had to venture a guess, I’d say you miss Sunday lunch?” he says with a slight smile, humour dancing in his eyes, and some of the tension leaves Jack’s body.

He groans, his head thumping back against the couch. “I am so dead.”

Colours are starting to creep back into his face and David finds that he can breathe easier.

“Are you okay?” he asks and Jack laughs, a tired and worn out sound.

“Do I have a choice?”

Probably not, David thinks, and that makes him sad. But Jack has Joseph and he has David, even if he doesn’t know it – or want it –, and that has to count for something, right?

\---

A week later Rose is watching her son charm the daughter of a wealthy CEO when a flash of gold in the corner of her eyes catches her attention, making her tilt her head towards the entrance.

Ah. Young Captain Shepherd is here, looking as uncomfortable as ever with the crowd. He is looking around apprehensively, a lamb lost in a sea of wolves, until his eyes land on Jack and he lights up, heading straight for him with no regard for protocol. Jack sees him coming and excuses himself, leaving the girl looking dreamy-eyed. He hands David a glass and says something that makes him laugh.

Good.

She sees Michelle looking at David and a subtle inclination of her head sends Paul in her direction. He is a nice boy and he’ll be good for her political aspirations, keep her busy and out of the way. David was never meant for her and she can’t have Michelle distract him away from what she has in mind for him. He needs to be Jack’s friend, so that when the time comes…

Her husband kisses her hand and she smiles prettily at him.

Yes, Silas’s reign is coming to an end and Jack will need friends when he takes his place. David, for all his blundering ways, has more supporters than she would ever have dreamt of and so he must be Jack’s. It was easy enough to throw the two of them together and it’s Jack’s gift to make people flock to him. It was only a matter of time after that. The opportunity to have David see Jack at his lowest just sped things along: it is in the nature of men like David to want to protect others from pain.

She was unsure whether Jack would divine her intentions but looking at them now he seems to have caught on just fine. Then she sees something that makes her arch an eyebrow – Jack’s smiles look _genuine_.

Interesting.

She would have thought Jack would never forgive David for seeing him undone but would keep him around all the same – keep your friends close and your enemies closer, she’s always told him – but it seems she underestimated Joseph’s influence.

Well, that can always be remedied when the time comes.

Rose smiles at her adoring subjects and goes back to mapping the future of her kingdom.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at my livejournal.


End file.
